


Breathe

by Phyllomania



Category: DCU, Titans (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phyllomania/pseuds/Phyllomania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy is having doubts about his skills, so Dick tries to help him out like a good leader and friend. It goes somewhere neither of them expected it to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

Training. Dick trusted most of his team to be perfect on their own, so it’s only when they’re trying to perfect working as a group that he absolutely demanded that anyone be in the room. Otherwise it was usually just a strong suggestion. Which meant people rotated in and out. Some earlier, some later. Dick was generally the first to show up and the last to leave. Working on himself, working on the others. Motivating them even when they didn't need to be motivated.

And it was a pain in the ass, Roy Harper decided as he pulled back the bow string for what seemed like the five hundredth time in two hours. His hand hurt, and he thought maybe he’d pulled a muscle when he tried to shoot 300 arrows in 20 minutes, on an arrow that had landed outside the 2-centimeter bullseye, no less. So he pulled back the string again, closed his eyes and turned around towards the target at his back. Dick was supposed to have moved it, but there’d been no sound so Roy decided he’d tried to throw a curve ball. The sound of arrow hitting target, as familiar as that of his own voice, proved him right. He smiled and turned, smile fading as he realized he’d hit the wrong target. Dick had switched it out for another, the one he’d been aiming for a foot to the left. The only thing lessening the ego blow was that at least Dick hadn’t been so cocky as to stand in FRONT of the first target. Instead he was on top of it. Roy dropped his arm as Dick grinned at him and jumped down to study the still-shivering arrow.

“Perfect hit,” he remarked casually. 

“In the wrong target,” Roy said quietly, clenching his fist a few times in order to get the cramps out. Dick opened his mouth, then gave the archer a look and closed it again.

“Still a perfect hit. You did ask me to try to fool you,” he tried.

“Yes, and in battle it might be a perfect hit that went through Toni. Or Donna. Or you. Or maybe it could press the ‘do not push’ button of the next great Doomsday device,” Roy said with a wince as his shoulder twinged. He was taking this harder than he should have and he wasn’t particular sure why. Dick didn’t look very sure either, but he stepped forward and decided just to ask.

“What’s wrong?”

Roy shook his head imperceptibly, and shifted to take aim at the other target. The one he should have hit before.

Dick’s hand closed over both his bow and his hand before he could let go. “Don’t, Harper. You’re injured and talking about how you might accidentally shoot your teammates. Something _is_ wrong.”

“I don’t think there is,” Roy said firmly.

Dick sighed and leaned against the wall while Roy stared at him defiantly. He shook his head. “Walk me through your training today.”

Roy didn’t move for a long time, just continued staring. Dick met his gaze steadily. Roy would talk. He’d chosen the topic because Roy would talk about it. They’d been around each other far too long and been through far too much together. Manipulating each other for the other's own good was practically second nature.

The silence lasted a minute or more, but eventually Roy bent, as they both knew he would. Started at the beginning and went through everything that had happened. Dick leaned against the wall and listened carefully, past the words, for the meaning he knew would eventually reveal itself. And it did, Roy getting there more quickly than Dick thought he would. The anger and frustration in Roy's voice when he talked about how only eighty percent of his arrows actually hit the bullseye when he was pushing himself was practically palpable against Dick's skin, and loud in his ears. It was apparent even in the angry way Roy unstrung his bow while talking, with brutal, jerky movements. Dick quietly filed all of that, and waited for Roy to finish, just in case there was anything else.

There wasn’t, and Roy fell silent, hands in loose fists by his side as he tried not to take his frustration out on Dick, even if Dick was a bastard that wanted him to talk about his feelings, or whatever it was he’s trying to do. Dick watched him, thinking, before pushing himself up from the wall.

“Show me how to use a bow,” he said calmly, voice carefully neutral. Roy stared at him in shock and maybe a little confusion. He’s certain Dick already knew how to use a bow. Dick had trained on dozens of weapons. Roy imagined that if he thought hard enough, he could even think of times when Dick had used one in his presence over the course of the hundreds of battles in which they'd fought together.

Dick watched all this flit across Roy’s face, guessing what thoughts were going through the marksman’s head. “My accuracy isn’t where I want it to be.”

Roy started. Stared at Dick because usually Dick wasn’t quite THAT transparent. But at the same time he seemed absolutely sincere in the request, and Roy couldn't help but to agree. He bent to his discarded bow, straining slightly as his shoulder objected to the intense pressure it took to restring the weapon, and handed it to Dick. Then it was his turn to wait, while Dick picked up an arrow and took aim. Critical over any mistake, Roy watched and waited and made note of anything he could possibly tell Dick, when Dick was almost as good at he was.

Then Dick let the arrow fly, and Roy tracked it even though he doesn’t really need to. It landed outside the bullseye. Not by a lot, but enough. Dick was too tense, Roy noted, gripping harder than he needed to in an attempt to make the arrow go where he wanted it through sheer force of will. Which would work with any other weapon, but not a bow. Bows were stubborn. They didn't like being manhandled.

Or maybe Roy was projecting. He didn’t really care as he stepped forward and hands Dick a second arrow, standing behind him this time as he drew the bow. He placed his hand gently between Dick’s shoulders, shifting them to a better angle, his body pressed against Dick’s as he modeled.

Dick was the perfect student, Roy couldn’t help but notice. He’d take any correction, and most of the time didn’t even need them to figure out his own mistakes. That didn’t stop Roy from touching, though, fingers sliding over the muscles in Dick’s arm, making minute adjustments to his posture. One palm landed in the center of Dick's back, pushing to align him so he was standing more evenly with the target.

“Breathe,” Roy whispered quietly. “Let the arrow know where you want it to go. Ask it. Show it.” And usually he wouldn’t be this flowery inside his own head, but arrows had been his life for years, and even though he expanded his arsenal, he was still attached to them in ways he probably wouldn’t be able to explain. Dick did exactly as asked. He relaxed into the stance, and into Roy, fingers loosening around the grip of the bow. He set his feet slightly differently, a stance better for his long frame as opposed to the one he’d seen from Oliver and, more often, Roy. He took a deep breath, and let the string go, exhaling with the flight of the arrow.

It hit just left of center, not enough off to matter. Roy already knew it would. Dick only nodded though, a quick bow of his head in thanks and comprehension, and picked up another arrow. It took less correction this time, of course. Again, a reminder to relax into the pull of the bow instead of forcing it. Dick breathed deeper on this pull, and Roy was surprised and a little bit confused when he realized it was in unison with his own breathing. It should be unexpected, except for the fact that Dick was following his lead. Dick trusted him to tell him what to do. And for a short moment Roy hated him for it, because Dick shouldn’t be able to read him so completely. To understand this much. Then they both exhaled and Dick released the arrow, which slammed deep into the center of the target.

Dick relaxed then, and let the bow fall, satisfied with his own performance for now and, more importantly, satisfied with how it turned out for Roy. The redhead had given him all the instruction he needed to give himself, but never would. Roy knew it too, obviously, and was staring at him with a whole array of conflicted emotions on his face. Anger, frustration, and maybe a hint of fear. Although maybe that was because their breathing was still matching, which Dick had to admit was a little disconcerting. He tried to end that, change his rhythm, unfortunately just as Roy did, and they end up matching again within seconds. Dick tried to distract them by holding the bow out to Roy, but that only made Roy look at him in something that was almost suspicion. 

“Stop it,” Roy said, as sharply as he could, staring at Dick. “Don’t _do_ this.”

Dick didn’t even know what he was doing, just knew that whatever it was, it was having the effect of making Roy look slightly panicked, and that wasn’t his intention. He shifted on his heels, not knowing whether to move forward into Roy's space, or back out of it. The training room was empty except for them, meaning little chance of a distraction.

Roy shook his head, tried to clear it, staring at the bow that’s still in Dick’s hand. _His_ bow. Dammit! It wasn’t fair. He tensed as Dick took a step forward, then another. Then suddenly Dick’s hand was in his hair and that’s really not fair and more than a little scary because they were still breathing in unison, just faster now. Roy wanted to run, somewhere, but that’s one thing he’d promised to never do again, and he doesn't break promises. Even with Dick pressed into his space, warm and comforting and terrifying, Roy wouldn't - couldn't - run. So he did the next best thing he could do and surged forward, shoving Dick against the wall and not even sure what he was planning to do until his mouth was closed over Dick’s in a kiss that made no sense to him, because it was thankful and cathartic and angry all at the same time, and because kissing boys wasn’t something he did up until approximately a half-second earlier.

And Dick was kissing back, hand on Roy’s shoulder in a tight grip to remind Roy where he was and what he was doing, but giving him full choice in the matter. Which also wasn’t fair, Roy thought, because he’s the irresponsible one. The impulsive one. The unreliable one and this wasn't a choice that should be left to him. He dropped his head to Dick’s shoulder, trying to calm himself. “What the hell is this, Grayson?”

Dick couldn’t help but smile, just a little. He was just as confused as Roy, to tell the truth, but Roy didn’t need to know that. “Whatever you want, _Harper_ ”

And Roy shuddered, because, yeah. Totally not fair, but his hand was still in Dick’s hair so he couldn’t be too confused. Then he was kissing Dick again and, no, he was definitely still confused but fuck it, but if Dick was going to go and breathe like that he’d just have to deal with the consequences of Roy molesting him. Besides, getting Dick with his back against the wall wasn't an achievement that many people could boast of and Roy kind of liked that.

Dick felt a wave of relief when Roy kissed him, because he wasn’t entirely sure Roy wasn’t going to punch him, or run away, or punch him and then run away. It wasn't that making out with Roy Harper was something that he’d particularly had on his mind, but making Roy run was something he never, ever wanted to do. So he kissed back, letting Roy have control because he figured the redhead needed that much not to freak out. He fought for control just enough so Roy wouldn’t guess any of that, because he was almost certain Roy _would _punch him if he figured it out.__

Roy, for his part, probably could have guessed if he’d thought hard enough, but Dick smelled like soap and tasted like sweat and Roy had lost his mind somewhere in the last 30 seconds. So he just kept kissing, slid his hands underneath the tank Dick was wearing and tried not to think about how different he felt from a woman. Then decided after a moment that he was ok with Dick not feeling like a woman, and wasn't sure what to make of that, either. Then Dick’s hands were under Roy's shirt, long fingers that had been wrapped around his bow earlier now tracing up his spine and Roy decided that even though he'd officially lost his mind he didn't actually car, but since Dick was the one making him lose his mind he had to match it. On instinct his hand slid down, into Dick’s sweatpants and, ok, yeah. Hearing that noise out of Dick was _definitely_ worth losing his mind over.

One thing that could be said of Roy Harper was that he was never shy, and Dick found himself glad for that when, once he’d make up his mind, Roy’s hand was suddenly down his pants. Because _fuck_. Dick grabbed Roy and hauled him closer, pressing their bodies together and trapping Roy’s hand because he figured Roy wouldn't stop if he couldn't get away. Roy shuddered along his whole body and bit Dick's neck, harder than he should have, because he damn well knew what Dick was doing and cared just enough to make a statement in the second before he traded his hand for his thigh. Dick moaned and ground against him, actually humping his leg, and Roy’s brain shorted out and suddenly the question of leaving was as far from his mind as it could possibly be.

Dick groaned and wondered when shooting an arrow had become quite such a loaded activity, moments before his head hit the wall and he pushed Roy back, just to get some space, because Roy shouldn't get to have all the fun. Dick made a decision and dropped to his knees. He kept his eyes on Roy’s as he did, just to watch the flash in them as the archer's brain processed what was about to happen right before before Dick slid his hands around his ass and into the band of his sweats, pushing them down. Seconds later Dick’s fingers fumbled at Roy’s jock, undoing it and getting it out of the way too.

The sound Roy made when Dick wrapped his hand around his half-hard erection was broken and he knew it, his hand dropping to Dick’s shoulder and clenching convulsively as he just stared. Watched. Somethinged. And tried to keep his knees from buckling when Dick started stroking him, and then fucking leaned forward and _licked_ him. The smirk Dick gave him would have probably made Roy want to hit the man under normal circumstances, but right at that moment he was too busy trying to not have a goddamn aneurysm from the fact that his best friend, and object of lust for about half the world as either Dick Grayson, Nightwing, or both, was about to go down on _him_.

Dick was willing to admit to himself that there's a bit of a power trip to seeing Roy like this, and to feel the muscles of his teammate trembling underneath his hand as he braced himself on Roy’s thighs. Not the evil supervillian kind of power trip – and he would personally beat the shit out of anyone who ever attempted to do something like this to ANY of his teammates in malice – but still a heady feeling. And one that was making him hard as hell. Even as he slid his mouth over Roy’s erection, fingers locked over the redhead's hips to keep him from thrusting hard enough to slam his head into the wall, Dick regretted not letting Roy get him off first.

“Dick,” Roy groaned, voice shaking, and Dick remembered that now wasn’t treally the time to be thinking about anything but Roy, isn’t entirely sure Roy wouldn’t kill him out of sheer sexual frustration if he didn’t move soon. So he moved, taking Roy completely into his mouth and down his throat. He wondered, not for the first time, what Bruce would think about the fact that his training his protégés to be so aware of their bodies meant that his oldest student could control his gag reflex so thoroughly, then abruptly decided that thinking about Bruce was a terrible idea when he was blowing someone. Either way, Roy cried out, his entire body shaking as he laid a hand on Dick’s head, fingers tightly weaving themselves into Dick's hair.

Roy wondered for a very brief moment where Dick had learned how to do what he was doing, right before Dick practically SWALLOWED him, and the only thought was a blinding desire to thrust into the tight heat of Dick's throat. He barely managed to hold himself in check with the thought that he’d probably give Dick a concussion if he did what he really wanted to, and that wasn’t fair when Dick was making him feel like this. So he tightened his grip in Dick’s hair and just held on for the ride as Dick manipulated him with his mouth and fingers and…eyes, Roy realized as he looked down. Dick was enjoying this, his eyes bright and shining with amusement and lust as he took Roy all the way down his throat one final time.

Dick could feel the other man’s orgasm approaching, and braced himself for it, letting his limbs go weak when Roy lost control of himself, on hand on the wall and the other pushing Dick back against the wall as his hips jerked, coming deep down Dick’s throat. Dick swallowed it all and just watched the expressions on Roy’s face as he came down. The surprise that switched to satiation, and then finally…anger. Dick blinked; wondered if he’d make a mistake when Roy’s eyes blazed with green fire and his hand was suddenly dragging Dick up by the hair, pushing him against the wall and holding him there.

Roy’s mind was too blown to even realize what he’s doing as he pulled Dick up, in the other man’s face. “You bastard.”

“Roy, I…” Dick tried to explain, only to be cut off.

“You can’t just do shit like this. It’s not fair,” Roy hissed, still holding Dick, one hand against his throat. For a moment Dick honestly thought Roy was about to hit him, or strangle him, or something else unpleasant. But then Roy surged forward, kissing him again and his hand was back in Dick’s pants. Ok. Roy was either losing his mind or he refused to be one-upped even in this, Dick decided. He was fine with either when Roy’s finger close around his erection, and when Roy was kissing him hard enough that it would hurt if he wasn’t so damn turned on. So he doesn’t move, except to kiss back. Just let Roy do what he wanted, and he swore he could feel every callous on Roy’s fingers and palm against his flesh as Roy jerked him off.

And Roy couldn’t stop watching as Dick slowly lost control. His eyes went dark and glazed, and Roy knew the slow twitching of Dick’s hips was entirely involuntary. He was proud of that. He wanted to draw it out, but with that expression on Dick’s face and his brain still shorted from what Dick had just done to him, there's no patience left in him to do that. So instead he went for ruthless, squeezing and caressing and pushing against Dick in ways he’s only ever done to himself when he can’t actually control himself any longer, desperately needing to get off for any number of reasons from Poison Ivy to just needing to feel alive. When Dick moaned…..actually moaned, Roy couldn't help but mirror the sound. His hand tightened around Dick’s erection, and he leaned forward. He needed to try something. His voice was a growl, not entirely on purpose, when he spoke. “Come for me. Right now.”

And Dick did, his brain going white and blank before he could process just how ridiculous the command sounded coming from Roy, a long shudder starting somewhere in his core and taking over his entire body. For a long moment, he couldn’t think any thoughts, and just sagged weakly against the wall. After a moment Roy fell to the side, leaning against the wall next to him.

“Please tell me,” Roy said quietly when the silence became too much. “That you didn’t plan this.”

Dick shook his head. He wasn't sure what he’d planned, but it wasn’t whatever that had been. “Are you mad?”

Roy took a deep breath - they’re not breathing at the same time anymore, at least, so that’s something – and then slowly shook his head. “Not sure what I am, but it’s not mad.”

Dick opened his mouth, to tell Roy that it would be ok, or that they could forget it, or something, when Roy shakily pushed himself up from the wall.

“We probably need to talk about this,” he said quietly, “but not right now. I need a shower.”

Dick nodded, slowly, and watched him go. They’d talk about it, and go from there, one way or the other they’d been through far too much for….whatever had just happened…to screw things up for them completely. Roy turned and waved as the door opened, the familiar grin on his face only a little strained. Dick sighed.

 And reminded himself to breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's where I beg for comments and concrit! I love knowing what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong, and hearing from people about what they liked and didn't like. All comments are quite happily taken into consideration re: future works, and comments on grammar mistakes, etc, will be directly applied. :D


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